


The Wardrobe

by Alyson



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Established McKirk, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Off screen Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 02:59:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19164433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyson/pseuds/Alyson
Summary: A decision had to be made, but it may have been the wrong one.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Wardrobe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166680) by [Charlotte_Lancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlotte_Lancer/pseuds/Charlotte_Lancer). 



> Written for the 2019 Star Trek Reverse Big Bang. My first time participating, my second story in this round's challenge, and I'm so excited! I was inspired by the wonderful artwork of Anj Emm and was so glad I got the chance to have this one, too, because it was hard deciding between this piece of artwork and the one I ended up making my first choice (I eeny meenied it). I hope everyone likes it!

They had purchased the house, just outside of Atlanta, right after the five year mission, when Jim finally realized that he loved more than just the stars. Oh, he had loved Bones, and made certain he knew it, since they were Sophomores at the Academy, but he had always thought that the ship, the crew, the adventure would come first. Then the five year mission was over, and he and Bones were visiting the McCoy family homestead and Jim had found himself leaning against a fence under a bright blue sky watching Leonard McCoy ride a horse. 

It was his smile. Brighter than anything Jim had ever seen before, and when he turned to look at him, it dazzled Jim right through his sunglasses.

They bought the house the next day, just down the road from Bones' grandmother; the biggest impulse buy either of them had ever made.

Most of the time the house stayed closed up, sealed against the environment, preserving their belongings, their furniture, their souvenirs. Then, once a year, they would arrive home for shore leave. The house would be opened up, aired out, and two weary men would collapse together in the master bedroom to sleep until it was time to dash off to San Francisco and be debriefed by their various superiors. Then they would return, unpack and playfully argue over where to place new finds, and relax together, until it was time to close up their Earth side home again and return to their home in the stars. 

Over these shore leaves there were get-togethers with family, with crew. McCoy met Kirk's mother, and on one memorable occasion, his older brother. They toasted Spock becoming a big brother, both a celebration and a very awkward occasion for the Vulcan. Chekov cheered, then cried, on their sofa when he was promoted – and had to leave the Enterprise. There was even a wedding in the back yard, uniting the home owners in the ultimate commitment, though some argued that just buying the house together was the bigger commitment.

All of this happened in the five years after the five year mission. More discoveries, more victories, more losses, crammed into such a short time. And then the youngest Captain in the 'Fleet was being pressured to become the youngest Admiral in the 'Fleet. A promotion that meant a return to Earth, long term, if not permanent. Accompanying that offer, one made to Dr. McCoy. A promotion to Captain and a posting to Starfleet Medical in a lead research position. Some would say it was to sweeten the deal, get Kirk to say yes. Kirk knew better. His promotion was an offer to try and get McCoy to finally say yes to the 'Fleet Medical promotion that had been offered more than once already. Truthfully, it was just good timing. Both were desperately wanted.

So McCoy sat at the foot of their bed, a PADD held loosely in his hands with the offer opened but unanswered, waiting for Kirk to come home from yet another meeting with the Admiralty. He knew what he wanted. He wanted what was across from him on the wall opposite their bed. Their wardrobe, topped with the most important items from their life together, things that told the history of Jim and Bones. The picture on the wall of them from their Academy days, not long before they became lovers; already so in love you'd have to be blind not to see it. A still from that shore leave where Jim nearly died when he came into contact with a pretty red flower that turned out he was deathly allergic to. They ended up spending time on the beach once he recovered, well away from the native flora.

It was always like that. Jim nearly dying, Leonard patching him up, and then drinking until his heart was no longer in his throat but back in his chest where it belonged. But what could he say? He knew this was his lot when he fell in love with the crazy son of a bitch. He knew what he was getting into when he vowed for better or for worse. Jim was born amongst the stars and he may well die there. If that was the case, Leonard would be by his side.

The front door opened, the old fashioned wood thumping shut behind Jim, his boots clunking with purpose on the tile floor of the foyer and hallway before he stepped onto the carpet of their living room. Leonard stood and headed that way as well, leaving the PADD on the bed. They stood, both in uniform, across the room from each other, the sofa between them. Jim's face was open, eyes wide, almost pleading, mouth slightly down turned. Leonard's heart sank.

“I can't do it, Bones,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I'm sorry.”

Leonard rounded the couch and took the other man into his arms, holding him close. It was both to reassure him and so he wouldn't see the wetness in his eyes.

“I know, darl'n,” he breathed into his hair, rubbing his back. “I know. It's OK. It's OK.”

It wasn't, but he'd never tell Jim that.

*~*~*~*

Before they left for the ship, Bones placed a carved figure of an alien species with six arms and a nasal column similar to a trunk on a shelf in their living room. It was their version of a fertility symbol and Jim had loved it. Bones was just fascinated with their anatomy, so the purchase was an easy one to agree on when they had wandered through the market place of the friendly alien city. He stared for just a moment, remembering why he liked his job, why it was so important. That little part of him that loved the unknown sparked to life again, and he was on fire once more to get back out there, beside his husband.

“Hey, Bones!” Jim called from their room. “Found a place for that little green bowl we got on our last stop! Right here on the wardrobe.”

McCoy stuck his head around the corner, raising his eyebrow at Jim's placement.

“I guess that will do,” he smiled, happy to see Jim so excited to get back to the Enterprise.

He would miss their little home, but Jim belonged in the center seat, and they would be back the next year. Bones couldn't remember why just the day before he had thought going back up was such a bad idea.

*~*~*~*

“This was a bad idea!” McCoy shouted over the sound of energy weapons.

“So you have said, repeatedly, doctor,” Spock shouted back, his voice a deceptively calm timber.

“And one of these days you might listen to me!”

Spock, a firm hand on the doctor's upper arm, spun behind the shelter of a half crumbled wall, ducking down and roughly bringing McCoy with him. He flipped open his communicator.

“Enterprise, two to beam up.”

“What!?” McCoy yelled. “We can't beam up! Jim's...” the beam took hold of them and re-materialized them back on the ship, “still out there!”

“We were separated,” Spock explained as he hurriedly rounded to the transporter controls, McCoy right behind him. “And outgunned. The natives were intent on taking him hostage. We, however, were expendable. We are no help to him dead. There. I am locking onto the Captain's comm signal. Energize.”

The pattern that was resolving was far too small to be a grown Starfleet officer. With dread, McCoy climbed back up to the transporter pad, and picked up his husband's communicator.

“Damn it, Jim.”

*~*~*~*

They entered a new system with a class M planet that, sure enough, was the home of intelligent life. Intelligent life with artificial satellites scanning the heavens, asking if anyone was listening. The Enterprise stopped, and Captain James T. Kirk proudly said yes, the United Federation of Planets was listening, and you are far from alone.

The governing body of the planet excitedly planned a delegation to meet the small landing party that had been agreed upon. The Captain, First Officer, Chief Medical Officer, an engineer and two security officers. Scans had not shown any planetary defenses, no shields that would prevent an emergency beam out, no signs of war. No other factions tried to contact them and claim the government didn't represent all interests. It was always a risk, but one worth taking. The party beamed down.

And discovered that the government was in the middle of a coup. A second intelligent species that had evolved on the same planet, but had been kept under the thumb of the other- whether due to one advancing technologically faster than the other, or sheer numbers, they wouldn't know without diplomats and years of research - was rising up and had seen the aliens' arrival as the perfect opportunity to pressure the government into a regime change. The ruling species had, of course, thought they had it under control.

They were proven wrong in the most dramatic of fashions. The landing party and the government envoy had been fired upon. The engineer and both security guards were killed. Several of the delegation was also killed and Kirk and two of the envoys were taken prisoner.

Spock had contacted the Diplomatic Corps, but help was days away, and they didn't have days. They were on a time limit, dealing with disgruntled slaves and a stubborn government that 'wouldn't negotiate with terrorists.' Fine in theory, but in practice....

Spock was doing his best. Explaining to the current rulers the benefits of Federation membership and how enslaving an entire race would prevent that membership from happening. But it was too soon, McCoy thought. They didn't know enough about these people to know what to offer them. They didn't even know if they were really even qualified for membership. They were just supposed to be making first contact; they weren't supposed to be making promises.

Though the wily Vulcan was hardly making promises, just suggestions, McCoy noted. Strong suggestions. Even going as far as to suggest that while the rewards for giving these people their freedom and in return obtaining Kirk's freedom were vast, the consequences of their barbaric behavior getting their Captain killed were just as vast. He didn't actually say any of that, of course.

“Doctor.”

Bones had the feeling that wasn't the first time Spock had spoken to him. But he wasn't impatient with him, bless him.

“Yeah, Spock, sorry,” he finally responded, rubbing a hand over his brow. “What is it? Any more ideas?”

“Not at this moment,” he replied gently. “Right now we have to allow the governing body to discuss our current suggestions and continue to try to contact the rebels directly to see if we can negotiate ourselves. We have not given up, Leonard, far from it. However, there is nothing you can do here and you are clearly exhausted.”

“No way, Spock,” he countered angrily, his voice no more than a hiss, not stooping to yelling... yet. “I ain't going no where, you green blooded...”

“Your Standard is degrading and you're becoming... colorful. You are tired, Leonard. We will get the Captain back. Please do not wear yourself down. He will blame me when he comes back to find you in a 'state.'”

“A state? You make it sound like I'm a fainting damsel.”

“You are in distress.”

“Touche.”

*~*~*~*

It was hard, even for Leonard, to argue with Vulcan logic. So he went home, to the quarters that he shared with Jim, and sat on the end of the bed. Much like their home in Georgia, a shared wardrobe sat against the wall across from the bed. The top of this wardrobe, however, was empty. It was, in reality, part of the bulkhead. All the furniture in all the rooms were welded into place so they didn't become deadly if the ship was shaken for any number of reasons or they lost gravity. It was the same reason there wasn't anything on top of their dresser on the ship, while there was at home.

Leonard wondered if they had set up the furniture the way they had in their Earth home as a reflection of their ship home. After all, they couldn't move the furniture in the ship to reflect their house on Earth. It must be something subconscious, he decided.

As he stared ahead, he could almost see their other room, superimposed over this one. The warmer colors, the shared memories...

Not for the first time since they rejected their promotions, Leonard wished they were there instead.


	2. Two

Jim woke up in a makeshift prison, alone, with a hell of a headache. He lay still, taking stock of his injuries (minimal) and his surroundings. Not only was he alone in what he thought looked like an old disused animal pen, but there was no sign of any other prisoners or his captors in what he assumed used to be a barn. Slowly, he got up and began inspecting his surroundings closer, looking for a way out.

Perhaps he made a sound they could hear, or their timing was good, but he had looked over no more than the door to his cage when three aliens carrying phaser rifles marched in. The one that seemed to be in charge knocked the butt of his rifle against the bars of his cell, making him take a step back. Another opened the door just a crack and shoved a bottle made of what looked like thick plastic in before slamming it closed again.

“Water,” the leader said, and the three turned to go.

“Hey!” Kirk called back. “Where is the rest of my crew?”

“Dead.”

The barn door slammed shut behind them and Jim slid to the ground. They were likely lying, trying to keep him off balance, but as Jim looked around at the other pens that had been turned into jail cells, the empty cells, he wondered where they were being kept if they were alive. What if his captors were telling him the truth?

What if Bones was gone?

*~*~*~*

He didn't know how long he had been left with his own thoughts, but his kidnappers eventually came back, pointing weapons and hauling him unceremoniously out of his cell. Jim was dragged from the barn, through an open area, and into another low slung, metal building, not much more than a shed. Inside were two males from the delegation they had been meeting with, strapped to chairs, elongated chins to chests. Blood, a few shades lighter than what was coursing through Jim's veins, stained their light colored robes, and Jim didn't know if they were dead or alive.

There was one other chair, next to the other two, and Kirk was dumped into it, the aggressors strapping him down quickly, the same as the others. Jim looked back and forth between the two different natives. The ones who had taken him prisoner looked pretty much like the others, but their chins were shorter, more like that of a human's, while the others had noticeably elongated jaws that tapered nearly to a point. Kirk couldn't see any other differences. Unless scans showed their anatomies differed, the Captain couldn't see a difference any more obvious than the ones between him and Sulu.

Which didn't make sense. When they had first been attacked and he dragged these very emissaries behind a bolder and asked them what the hell was going on, he was told a more aggressive, less developed species was attacking. On the surface, they didn't look like a different species.

And they didn't look less developed, not when they pulled out a device and aimed it at him, startling at a flash of light until he realized he was unharmed. The alien who had used the device began typing on it with what looked like stubby thumbs and he wondered if they had taken a picture of him and were sending it to the government as proof of life. The flash had woken the emissary next to him, making Kirk sigh in relief that at least one of them hadn't been killed.

“Captain,” he rasped when he saw the human had been brought out to join them. “I am so sorry. We had not realized the primitives had organized themselves.”

“The rest of the landing party,” Kirk spoke over him, not caring what else he was about to say, not yet. “Do you know if they're holding anyone else? Maybe where they were holding you?”

“No,” the other shook his head, his eyes slipping closed. “I'm so sorry, Captain, but they were gunned down. They only took those of us who survived the attack.”

“You saw this?”

“I saw my fellows fall, I saw yours on the ground as they dragged us from our shelter. They confirmed they took the living and left the dead.”

Anything else that he may have said was lost in the rushing of blood through Jim's ears. Bones. Spock. Henson, Matlock, Br'Daya.... They were gone... Bones was gone. Jim had needed to be back on his ship, back exploring, and his ever patient husband had needed to be by his side, where ever he was. From the beginning, Leonard McCoy had turned down research positions, lead surgical positions, offers of increasing prestige... all because Jim couldn't stay still. He needed the stars and Leonard had needed him. Did that mean Bones had loved Jim more than Jim had loved him? Had he loved the Enterprise more, better, than his own mate?

At that moment, the thought of the ship and his crew brought him no comfort. His heart was gone. When the torture started, he barely felt it.

*~*~*~*

At some point, Jim lost consciousness. When he woke up, it was to being thrown back into his cell and cold water tossed on him. The aliens left, laughing as they went. Jim just lay curled onto his side.

His entire body was sore. He was pretty sure his arm was broken, as well as a rib or two. But he didn't care. There was a hollowness in his chest he knew he couldn't fill. He had had no idea that it would hurt this much. He had lost people before, people he'd loved, and as much as it hurt it was never like this. This feeling that he didn't exist anymore, except for the pain in his chest and his gut that told him he did. The feeling that he didn't want to exist anymore. He knew, without a doubt, that if he died on this planet, it would be for the best.

He knew that wasn't what Spock or Bones would want. Spock would say something about the needs of the many or some other sage advice that had to do with Jim's continued existence, and Bones.... The irascible doctor would tell him that he had a ship, a crew, a family. That he was needed, wanted, loved. That the pain would fade and he would move on.

Jim didn't believe that. In that moment, not only did he not believe that the pain would fade, that he would one day move on, he didn't want it to. It felt like a betrayal. Bones couldn't stop being dead, how could he stop hurting? How could he go on and do all the things they had talked about doing together, alone? Or worse? With someone else?

If he had just taken that damn promotion. He knew Bones had wanted to take his. He had been half afraid that he would take it anyhow, when Jim came home that day, telling him he couldn't do it, he couldn't fly a desk. He had been afraid that Bones would have just repeated the same words, he couldn't do it, and Jim would be going off into the black alone, without his husband. How his heart had soared and he had felt so humbled when his amazing love had once again pulled him into his arms and told him they would never be parted.

But they were parted, and it was Jim's fault.

*~*~*~*

“You will say what we have instructed.”

Jim's head lolled to the side and then down, his chin hitting his chest and staying there. He was strapped, immobile, to the chair again, his head the only thing he could move. His ribs were in agony, but he didn't make a sound. A rough hand grabbed his hair, bringing his head up, making him look into the recording device another captor had aimed at him.

“Speak.”

He didn't. He was hit, open handed, his head not even moving from the impact, the sting more of a humiliation than a reprimand. He barely felt it, just stared ahead of him. It was partially numbness, partially the pain of losing his lover. Most of it was defiance. He wouldn't give these bastards what they wanted. He may die, he may welcome death, but he was a Starfleet officer, damn it, and he was going down with a fight and without giving an inch to his captors. He was sad, hurt, cold... and angry. Furious. But hardly impotent in his rage.

He took a deep breath, the one holding the camera aiming it more steady towards him, and he spit a wad of mucus and blood right into the lens.

“There's your statement,” he hissed, his blood covered smile maniacal. 

This time the hit knocked him out.

*~*~*~*

“Captain,” he heard from far away. “Captain, you must wake up.”

Kirk slowly came to himself, and realized he was laying, unrestrained, on the floor of his torture chamber. It was one of the delegates, still strapped to a chair, that had woken him. He tried to sit up, but he could barely move. The pain was intense. His left arm, the one he was certain was broken before, hung uselessly at his side. When he looked over at it, it was with detachment that he noticed it was most likely internally severed from his elbow and shoulder. Only skin and muscle kept it attached to his body, and not much of that. 

He forced himself through the pain and onto his feet, hobbling over to the alien.

“Do not try to release me,” he warned. “You're too injured to be successful and you need to leave and hide as quickly as possible. Your anatomy is different enough that they thought they had killed you. They didn't realized you still lived. I wasn't sure if you did, either. You have to try and get help. No one knows where we are hidden.”

“How?” he rasped. “I don't know where we are, either.”

“The sun is beginning to set. Head towards the sunset. I was awake when they brought us here, and we are north of the capital. Heading towards the sunset will take you directly there, but we traveled far. You must stay strong and hurry, and trust only those with long faces.”

Kirk nodded and painfully turned away, walking quietly as possible to the door. He pushed it open just an inch, relieved when it was clear that the hinges were well cared for, and scanned the surrounding area. There was no one that he could see, and that would have to be good enough. He hoped they ate on a similar schedule that Humans did and that they would be occupied with an evening meal. He crept out and closed the door so as not to alert anyone passing by and slipped around the side of the building, facing the setting sun.

He stopped to take a breath and nearly passed out when he jostled the injured arm. The tunic sleeve was already hanging off it in shreds, so he pulled it the rest of the way off and used it to create a makeshift sling, keeping the useless appendage out of his way. He had the stray thought that Bones would be proud of him and had to stifle the sob that threatened to choke him as a stab of agony lanced his heart at the thought of his husband.

He wondered if his and Spock's bodies was still on the planet or if the Enterprise had been able to retrieve them.

The place the rebels had holed up may have been an old farm, but it wasn't one used to plant crops. There were no fields or wide open spaces. It was mostly wooded. He wondered if maybe they had planted food trees years before and the orchards had all grown over. Regardless, he counted himself lucky for the cover. It was the first break he'd had since...

He stamped that thought down and headed towards the capital.


	3. Three

“Doctor, please report to the Bridge.”

McCoy sat up suddenly, Spock's voice over his comm waking him from a half-sleep filled with nightmares. He fumbled for the comm as he rolled off the bed, fully clothed, stuffing his feet into his boots as he walked/hopped to the door.

“On my way,” he answered as he ran full tilt to the 'lift.

When he arrived Spock greeted him at the turbolift door and all but dragged him into the ready room. Spock's show of anxiety was enough to alarm McCoy further, dreading what he was about to be told. In the ready room, seated around the conference table, was the rest of the command crew and the head of security. The doctor didn't know whether to be hopeful or terrified.

“We have made contact with the rebels,” Spock announced without any preamble. “They are more forthcoming than the governing body and more willing to negotiate. They have agreed to release the Captain in exchange for our diplomatic team to negotiate their freedom from slavery, land of their own and laws to prevent them being harassed or harmed in the future.”

“This is great news,” McCoy laughed almost hysterically. “When are they releasing him?”

“That is where the good news ends,” Spock answered darkly. “They had to admit that the Captain has escaped, and that he was severely injured. They tracked him partway into a wooded area surrounding their base, but lost his trail. The surviving delegate the government leaders had sent to meet us said that he had put him on the path to head to the capital, the safest place, he believed, for him to find help. Unfortunately, the capital is thirty point one three kilometers from the base and based on his injuries and lack of supplies, no one is certain he could have made it on his own.”

Leonard's stomach plummeted.

“We've tried tracking him from orbit,” Sulu reported. “But it's the same story as why we couldn't find him in the first place. The forest is too dense. That said, the forest ends approximately two kilometers from the capital, and there has been no sign of him.”

“Therefore,” Spock continued after a nod to Mr. Sulu, “it is logical to assume that he is still in the forest.”

“But it's huge!” McCoy exclaimed, looking at the map of the forest on the monitor behind Spock. “If he's losing blood, there's no guarantee he stayed on course. He could have gotten confused and not stayed traveling in a straight line after being side tracked, having to go around an obstacle. That's too much ground to cover!”

“But cover it we will,” Spock insisted, grabbing the frantic doctor's attention. “You must remember; our search parameters before included most of this continent of the planet. We now have a much smaller search area. The odds of finding him have increased exponentially. We're sending all available shuttles.”

“Yes, yes of course,” Leonard breathed, closing his eyes to center himself. He knew the Commander was right. He just needed to do something. “I'll put together the medical teams for the shuttles. I want on the one that's following his most likely path.”

“I am calculating that now, Doctor. I will be piloting that shuttle.”

Leonard nodded to Spock and then headed out the door, rushing to Sickbay, not waiting to be dismissed. 

*~*~*~*

He didn't know how far he had gone. A few meters into the wooded area, he realized he was leaving a trail of blood and broken twigs. It was a rookie mistake, but he wasn't in his right mind. He was hurrying, as if that mattered. He had to remind himself that even though he didn't care what happened to him anymore, there was another being depending on him to maybe save his life. He may not agree with what the delegate represented, and in theory, he may sympathize with his captors, but two wrongs did not make a right...

But three lefts did and Jim was worried he may have done just that after erasing his tracks, using his other uniform sleeve to stop his bleeding, at least for the time being, and going around a large copse of trees he couldn't go through. He kept pressing on, not able to see the sun anymore in the ever thickening forest, the blueish green ambient light filtering through lush alien trees being the only light he had to go by. It was beautiful,really. He suddenly imagined he was there with his husband, leaning against a trunk, holding him tightly in his arms.

A sob escaped him as he stumbled to his knees, having tripped over a root, the thought of Leonard too much. He had been keeping the pain buried, not having time for it, needing to survive, to escape, to still be alive when he was rescued. But he had been traveling for what felt like hours in what he thought may be the entirely wrong direction. Looking around he had no way of getting back on track, or knowing for certain if he was lost. And now, as hope escaped him, he wondered why he bothered.

Jim Kirk sat down, leaned against a tree and closed his eyes. It was dark now, too dark to see clearly, and he didn't care. All he could think about was Bones and their home in Georgia. He didn't see his husband in his blue uniform shirt standing in Sickbay. No, he saw him in one of his soft flannels, holding a mug of coffee, his hair soft without the product he used to keep it regulation, standing in their kitchen with a hip against the counter, smiling at Jim. Jim smiled back, even as the tears tracked hotly down his face, missing one being more than any other in the entire universe, but knowing he would see him in his dreams as he fell asleep and his body temperature dropped. 

Jim knew he was about to die, he just hoped that he'd be with his Bones when it was over.

*~*~*~*

“Commander Spock, why have you launched a fleet of ships to the surface of our planet?”

The President, having been routed from the ship's comm to the shuttle's, was beside himself with fear and indignation, as far as McCoy could see. It was understandable. In the span of just a few days these people found out they weren't alone in the universe, they caused a diplomatic indecent (even if they didn't fully grasp that) by not being completely forthcoming, and they were probably now realizing that they had no actual planetary defenses.

“We received word from the rebels that they had our Captain and that he has escaped, injured,” Spock explained succinctly. “We now have a definitive search area but require our shuttles to perform said search.”

“Should you not have contacted us for permission?”

“Indeed,” Spock feigned surprise, a look McCoy thought he might have gotten from himself. “Time was of the essence. Any delay could mean the difference between finding Captain Kirk alive or dead. I was certain we would have your permission to rescue that which you lost and that you would not want to cause us any delay.”

Not entirely smooth, McCoy thought, but to the point and threatening without being threatening. 

“Of course,” the President backpedaled. “You're correct, we would never interfere in the safe retrieval of your Captain. Good luck, Commander.”

“Thank you,” Spock replied and quickly disconnected.

The shuttle was plunged into a tense silence. No one aboard spoke as they searched for the missing man. Each shuttle had five crew members onboard. The pilot, running automatic scans and flying their assigned search pattern, two medical personnel and two others trained in rescue and retrieval, often security. Despite all these people, and in the case of McCoy's shuttle one of the rescue personnel was the usually talkative Mr. Scott, the only sound was that of the equipment. They were desperate to find Jim.

It wasn't Spock and McCoy's shuttle that found him. It was Sulu's.

Leonard had been right. He was no where near where he should have been if he had been able to remain going in the direction he had been sent on. Loss of blood, pain, dehydration, hunger, cold... the doctor could only imagine what all had conspired to put him off course.

“Is he alive?” he asked with a calm he didn't feel. “Can we meet up with the shuttle?”

“Hold on,” Spock said, listening closely to the report coming in. “He is alive.” There was a sigh of relief from all onboard. “However, we can not meet up with the shuttle, we're all heading to the ship. I'm sorry, Leonard, but it would be a delay that the Captain may well not be able to afford. You chose the medical personnel and I for one am confident that he is in excellent hands.”

Leonard knew he was right. He just wanted to see his husband for himself.

*~*~*~*

Jim opened his eyes to the familiar sight of his husband smiling down at him. He felt his own mouth lift in a grateful grin and tried to move his hand to touch the beloved face above him. It had worked, his hopes had been realized. They had been reunited in death. He was with Bones, whose head was ringed in white light, almost like a halo. He wondered at it, amazed at the thought that maybe some of Earth's oldest religions were at least partially right, at least for them. Maybe they would get an afterlife together.

But something was wrong. Pain, intense and unexpected hit him and brought the world around him into much sharper relief. It was then that he realized that the face above him was not just smiling but haggard and worried, his beloved was in surgical scrubs and the light was the familiar ceiling of Sickbay.

“ 'ones?” he hissed through the pain.

“Stay still, Jim,” the doctor replied. “You've lost a lot of blood and that arm of yours is a mess. We're about to take you into surgery.”

“Alive?”

“Yes, darl'n, you're alive. You're home,” Leonard replied to what he thought he was being asked, his voice breaking on the last word.

“You 'live,” Jim argued. He had to make him understand. He was told his husband had died, he had lived for days thinking he was alone in the universe. Part of him was afraid to believe what he was seeing, that he had been lied to, that the witnesses had been mistaken, but the pain was telling him that he was alive, aware and seeing the truth. And if Bones was alive.... “ 'ock? Spock, too?”

“Yes, Jim,” McCoy agreed. “Spock, too. He's up on the Bridge doing Captain'y stuff right now. Don't worry about any of that right now. I'm alive I'm here. And we're ready for you. I'll see you again soon. I love you.”

Jim tried to reply, tried to tell him that he loved him, too and so much more. He wanted to tell him he was sorry he didn't let him take the promotion, that he dragged him away from Earth again. He wanted to say no, this isn't home. It used to be and it will always be some of the best parts of my life, but our home is on Earth, in Georgia, now. You're the very best part of my life, where ever we are. But a hypo was pressed to his neck and darkness claimed him before he could say any of that.

*~*~*~*

“What is his status?” Spock asked quietly as he stood over a deeply sleeping Kirk.

“You don't have to whisper, he's in stasis,” McCoy said tiredly. “Dr. M'Benga did his best with me assisting, but that arm.... Spock, I called you down because there's a specialist on Earth. I've already spoken to her and she's getting ready to board a transport to meet us but it's going to take her days to get here.”

“We will meet her,” Spock asserted, not needing to be asked. “I'll divert us back to Earth and we'll take her aboard as soon as we meet the transport. Can she save the arm?”

“Well, it's been reattached and the blood flow is good. It's just.... Damn it! I don't know what they did to him. It's like they twisted the joints every which way they could until they just weren't attached anymore. It would have been better if they had cut the arm clean off and we recovered the limb and reattached it. There is so much nerve damage, it's a matter of how much mobility he can recover. We put him in stasis to stop healing, not damage, so it doesn't heal as it is, so Dr. T'Lar will have something to work with. Spock... I don't know if he'll be able to pass the Captain's physical.”

“I understand. We will deal with whatever the outcome is.”

“I know, I know. And I know everyone will be there for him.”

“And for you as well, Doctor,” Spock assured.

Leonard nodded then turned back to his unconscious husband, listening as Spock left to divert them back to Earth. He swallowed hard, looking at the relaxed face, looking almost as young as he did on that shuttle so many years before. The shuttle ride that changed their entire lives. The doctor had lied to Spock, but he wouldn't lie to Jim. He did know; he'd seen the damage. Jim was never going to command a starship again.


	4. Four

This time when Jim woke up, it was gradual. His mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton; his blanket was thick and heavy, keeping the chill of Sickbay off of him; he could move, but he felt numb and his left arm felt as if it were strapped immobile across his chest. He opened his eyes, sticky with sleep, to find a Vulcan woman he'd never seen before calmly running a scanner over the arm that was, indeed, strapped to his chest.

“Dr. McCoy,” she said without looking up from her scanner. “Captain Kirk is awake.”

“Jim,” the doctor greeted him with a wide smile. “Glad you finally decided to join us. Give Dr. T'Lar a moment and I'll get you sat up, something to drink, and then we'll talk about what happened.”

“You're doing very well, Captain,” the woman that he figured must be Dr. T'Lar intoned just before snapping the scanner closed and looking up at him. “I will send your readings to Dr. McCoy's PADD. He can go over everything with you and if you have further questions that he can not answer, I will be available.”

She nodded to him and McCoy, then left them alone. Leonard did as promised, lifting the head of Jim's bed and then giving him water through a straw, helping to clear the cotton from his mouth. Every move the Doctor made was closely watched by the Captain. He remembered realizing that his husband was actually alive before he was put under, but he still could barely believe his eyes.

“They told me you were dead,” was the first thing he said. “They told me all of you were dead.”

“What?” Leonard said, shocked, sitting on the edge of the bed and grasping Kirk's free hand. “Who did?”

“My captors and the surviving delegates. Said they saw you guys go down.”

“It happened so fast,” Leonard shook his head. “What they saw was the rest of the landing party being gunned down. It's true, they didn't make it. But Spock managed to get me out of there and get us beamed up. It was horrible. We didn't know where they had taken you, and then they told us you were gone, and injured....”

They sat in silence, just holding hands for a long time, Leonard helping Jim drink more water every now and then.

“I want to go home,” Jim finally said.

“Huh?” Leonard responded, clearly being pulled away from his own thoughts.

“I remember, before you put me under, you said that I was home. I'm not home. Home is with you, on Earth. When I thought I had lost you, I deeply regretted not taking that promotion, for dragging you back out into space. We've pushed our luck to its limits, Bones. I want to go home.”

“You didn't drag me anywhere,” Leonard chastised him. “My home is where ever you are and if that's here or on Earth, that's where I'll be. I admit it, I really wanted to stay last time and was disappointed when you refused the promotion, but then I was glad to be getting back to the ship, back to the discovery of it all. I don't know what to tell you, Jim. I may be just as crazy as you.”

“Oh, I know you are,” Jim chuckled. “And maybe I am having a knee jerk reaction to what just happened, but, I still want to go home. I'm done. We've been in deep space for over ten years. We're still young men, really. Maybe it's time for a new chapter in our lives, though. I mean, think about it; we could get a dog... or a baby.”

“Whoa, how did you go from dog to baby?”

“I don't know. Just seems like it's something we could do, if we weren't going back into space. I mean, we have training for it. First contact experience, diplomacy training, hostage negotiations...”

“Jim, do you know anything about what's going on with that arm?” Leonard asked gently. “Does your decision to leave the Enterprise have anything to do with that?”

“My arm?” he looked down at the offending appendage and tried to wiggle it a little, finding that moving it at all was impossible. “No. I mean, I know it was bad. They all but tore it off. It has nothing to do with my decision to leave the Enterprise, though. Why would it? What aren't you telling me, Bones?”

“Jim, Dr. T'Lar did what she could. Hell, she did an amazing job, actually. And she has a hell of a bedside manner for a Vulcan. If we were going to stay here I'd try to get her on my staff. But, she confirmed what Dr. M'Benga and I strongly suspected – you're never going to have full mobility of that arm again. She did repair tissue connectivity I didn't think could be fixed, so most of your strength will return, but...”

“But I couldn't pass a physical even if I wanted to remain captain. I'm losing my command regardless of what I choose.”

“Yeah, Jim, yeah.”

“Well, so be it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, OK. Let's talk about what our next steps are, including your injuries, the surgeries you just had and your medical plan going forward.”

“And adoption.”

“Of a dog.”

“You got it, Bones.”

*~*~*~*

Jim and Bones no longer closed up their home. It was never sealed against the environment and the only way to keep the treasures they had accumulated over the years traveling from planet to planet free of dust was to run a duster over them, which Leonard tried to do once a month. Jim's allergies couldn't tolerate anything less. A house that had seen so much activity crammed into a few weeks a year suddenly saw a great deal of activity over several months. 

There was a homecoming party for the home owners, followed quickly by a party that celebrated the joint promotions of Kirk, McCoy and Spock, who was given command of the Enterprise. The Reliant, the ship Lt. Commander Chekov had been assigned to as tactical officer, docked for refits a month later and the young man spent as much time in Kirk and McCoy's spare room as he did visiting his family in Russia. They grilled out on the back deck every night he was there, thrilled to have him with them for as long as he wanted to stay. Jim had physical therapy in the living room, Leonard burnt a pot roast in the kitchen and his grandmother taught both of them how to make biscuits from scratch. After watching how many Jim could put away in one sitting, Bones decided they would be a rare treat. Family, friends, coworkers – they all moved in and out of their lives through their home, leaving more and more memories.

They did get the dog they talked about. A golden retriever they named Mitzy. Jim was in charge of taking care of her, according to Bones, though Bones found that he loved the slobbery thing just as much as Jim did, and took her for walks more often than the man who was supposed to did. Jim never let him live it down. There were even children, though none that were theirs. The Sulus visited when Hikaru and Ben had a little boy through a surrogate. Jim sat gently holding the boy, Bones hovering nearby in case the weaker arm gave out, completely wrapped around the sleepy baby's fingers while his parents and big sister took a much needed nap. Even Sarek and his new wife stopped in with their little girl while on Earth. The solemn little Vulcan didn't smile at his antics, but she kept close to Jim and hugged him when they left, clearly liking him as much as her big brother did.

Before they knew it, a year had passed and the Enterprise was back in orbit. In ones and twos, and sometimes threes and fours, their old friends visited. Some, like Spock and Uhura, looked just the same as they always did, seemingly untouched by time. Others, like Scotty, who was getting some gray at his temples and a bit of weight around his middle, were a reminder that time did not stand still. It was humbling.

When Scotty left after his visit, taking a transporter back to San Francisco after helping them drink most of the bottle of scotch he had brought them as a gift, complete with ribbon around the neck, Jim carried the bottle, and practically carried Bones, into their bedroom. He helped a sleepy and more than a little drunk McCoy to lay down on the bed and then set the bottle of scotch on the wardrobe. It took him a moment to get the fingers of his left hand to open after having gripped the bottle so tightly, but they did and he was able to stretch them out until they opened and closed normally again. While he flexed his left hand, he used his right to position the bottle.

A few things had been added to the wardrobe; a few precious things. When they had accepted their promotions and threw the party to celebrate that and Spock's taking command of the Enterprise, they had all specified no gifts. However, Spock never could help himself. After the others had left, he had presented Jim and Leonard with a model of the Enterprise he had had made as a reminder of the home they were leaving behind and of the family that would always return to them.

The green bowl they had placed just before leaving to go back to the Enterprise for the last time now held their class rings. Bones didn't wear his because of his work in his lab. The wedding bands they wore were low profile enough not to get in the way, but the Academy ring seemed to keep clanking against his beakers and test tubes, so he had simply removed it and placed it in the bowl. Jim couldn't explain why he had done the same. He just saw his husband's sitting in the dish, and thought it looked lonely, so he put his with it. Silly, but he did it, and was satisfied, but it wasn't something he was going to try and explain.

Then Starfleet Research and Development had come up with a new communicator. It was small and streamlined, fitting just behind their Starfleet insignia, and could be activated with a tap to the chest and a voice command. The new ones were issued and everyone was told they could drop their old ones off with the Quarter Master. Very few did, and no demands for their return was issued. Jim and Bones hadn't returned theirs. They were the last communicators they had had on their last voyage into the black - Jim's the one that had been beamed up without him from a planet far away - and they were sitting on the wardrobe, open but silent, in a place of honor.

Now the gift from Scott would join these precious possessions. Jim ran his fingers over the items on the wardrobe and wondered what the next few years would bring, what other treasures would join those already on their wardrobe, what stories they would tell. Maybe a pair of baby shoes would be next, he decided, thinking of the news they had just received about the new member of their family that would be joining them in a few months. 

Parenthood. Their greatest adventure yet.

Jim couldn't wait.

The End


End file.
